


the pull of you

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Hinata Shouyou, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Sugawara Koushi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: Kageyama Tobio once had a career in volleyball, but that all went down the drain when he injured his shoulder. A year later, he's working a dead end job with no end in sight when someone from his past quite literally runs into him—and that's the night his life changes completely.or, three times Tobio wears Asahi's clothes and one time Asahi wears Tobio's.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Kageyama Tobio/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 55
Collections: HQ Mini Bang





	the pull of you

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was completed for the HQ Mini Bang! Mods, you ran a great event. Thank you for putting this on.  
> My art is by [Bel!](https://twitter.com/belnoheroaca) Thank you so much for working with me!  
> This fic was heavily inspired by four songs from the National's latest album, I Am Easy to Find. A playlist with just those four can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/290vn1I2hYNxJa4CXwVIPY?si=e1J1DftFRTOkjkBt8iUDIA) but I do recommend listening to the whole album, it's wonderful.

_i. i'm your angel when it rains, dear_

Tobio opens his umbrella to shield himself from the rain, and it snaps in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. The useless umbrella folds sadly in on itself, and Tobio squints out into the night. It’s pouring, the rain splashing down into puddles in the alley behind the pizza shop. He checks his watch and grimaces; he’s missed the bus. It’ll be twenty minutes before another comes. 

“You just gonna stand there and let the damn rain in?” asks the head chef. Tobio turns; he’s holding a large knife that glistens with the juice of the pineapple in front of him.

“No, sir. Sorry, sir. See you tomorrow, sir.”

The chef gestures at the door with the knife. “Close it hard on your way out.”

Tobio nods quickly and hurries out the door into the rain, kicking it hard behind him to make sure it shuts. He deposits his broken umbrella in the dumpster, which he’s frightened to think doesn’t smell that much worse than him. He reeks of stale pizza and the beer that drunk college kid spilled all over him, and within about thirty seconds he’s soaked to the skin, his ratty work shirt clinging to him uncomfortably. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles again. He sets off in the direction of the bus stop.

Tobio is grateful, in this moment, that he didn’t wear his Converse today. They’d be irreparably drenched by the time he got home, and his old tennis shoes are already steeped in rainwater, his socked feet squishing around in the extra toe room. His jacket is hopeless, just as wet as his shirt underneath, and he shivers involuntarily. The autumn has only barely set in, and already the weathermen are talking rainfall records. A car drives by too close to the sidewalk and splashes him with even more rainwater.

Tobio bites his bottom lip a little too hard and tastes iron on his tongue.

Had he known a year ago that this would be his life now, there’s no way he would have gone for that receive. He would have let it go; it was just another point. Another point in a game that his team ultimately lost. It wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t gone for it. He’d still have the full use of his shoulder, and he’d still be playing volleyball. 

Instead, he’s a busboy in a rundown pizza shop with an umbrella he can’t afford to replace until next paycheck.

He reaches his bus stop and checks his watch again; it’ll be at least fifteen minutes before the next bus arrives. He kicks absentmindedly at the sign. He doesn’t want to risk taking his phone out and subjecting it to what he imagines would be unfixable water damage, which leaves him with nothing to occupy the time he’s going to spend waiting. 

His shoulder twinges uncomfortably. It always twinges when it rains.

The sidewalks aren’t crowded at this time of night, but there are a few passersby, mostly young professionals on their way home from late shifts. All of them carry umbrellas and look down at the sidewalk, moving quickly to try to protect their clothing from the precipitation. Tobio feels a strange pang; he never really understood metaphors, but this one is plain enough. Others his age are moving forward, prepared for their futures. Tobio himself is stuck at a dead-end job, living paycheck to paycheck, his dreams and goals in the dumpster with his sad, broken umbrella.

A shorter figure with a fully functional umbrella walks directly into him.

“Oh, no!” the person cries. “I’m so sorry, I was looking down, and—Kageyama?”

Tobio looks down in surprise to see Sugawara Koushi of the old Karasuno team staring up at him. They’re much the same as he remembers: the same silver hair, the same mole under their eye, the same brightness in their face.

“Sugawara-san,” Tobio manages.

“I’m so sorry,” they say again. They lift their umbrella so it’s covering him too. “You are…” They look him up and down, and the corner of their mouth lifts in a grin. “Drenched.”

“My umbrella broke,” Tobio answers by way of explanation, “and I’m waiting for the bus.”

“In the rain,” Suga says. Tobio blinks as Suga begins to hum a tune to themself, but quickly stops. The upturned corner turns into a full smile. “Sorry. Are you alright?”

Tobio wonders if they mean generally or in this specific moment. “Sure.”

“What are you doing in this part of town, anyway? I thought the stadium was over in the Ginza district.”

Tobio inhales sharply, then exhales through his nose. “Yes, it is.”

Suga gives him a curious look, their head tilting to the side. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Tobio replies automatically. 

Suga shakes their head. “You’re going to catch cold.”

Tobio glances down the road, looking for a bus that is still way off. “I’m fine, Sugawara-san, thank you.” The rain intensifies; distantly he thinks he hears a roll of thunder, and he shivers involuntarily.

Suga grasps his elbow, and Tobio's neck nearly snaps in his haste to look at the point of contact between the two of them.

He can't remember the last time someone touched him on purpose.

"Our apartment isn't far," they say, and Tobio can only just hear them over the pounding of the rain against their umbrella. "Come on, let's get you inside."

Tobio doesn't have a chance to argue; Suga's got a vice grip on his forearm and retains a surprising amount of strength for as slight as they are. They tug him away from the bus stop, presumably in the direction of their apartment. 

“Will your roommate mind if I barge in?” Tobio asks, voice loud to be heard over the storm.

“Not at all!” Suga replies. “Asahi isn’t home yet, anyway, he had the late shift tonight.”

Tobio had no idea they lived together, but then again, Tobio had no idea Suga was still in Tokyo. He knew Suga was headed in this direction when they graduated, but they’d lost touch over the years, Tobio’s busy schedule keeping him too occupied to maintain any sort of social life before the injury. After, he’d been too embarrassed to pick up the phone. Only Hinata still texts him, occasional pictures of the team or just to check in. Tobio distinctly remembers the days when he’d hated Hinata, and he wonders at ever having so much energy.

Tobio has to hunch to try to squeeze under the umbrella with Suga, and he gives up quickly. Suga pulls him around the corner onto a quieter back street. Tobio trudges along beside them and sloshes through some more puddles. He’s grateful his shift tomorrow is another later one; there’s a small chance his shoes might be at least a little dry by then.

“You’re getting even more wet!” Suga yells, even as the rain pours down harder.

Tobio shrugs, giving a useless glance up at the sky as if looking up will make it stop raining. “Does it matter?”

Tobio barely contains a gasp as Suga wraps their arm around his waist and tugs him closer, further under the inadequate umbrella in a futile attempt to shield him from the rain. He wants to say it's too late, to use the umbrella to save themself, but his tongue is stuck in his mouth, his words jammed just at the back of his throat where he can't reach them.

“Nearly there!” Suga shouts, and there’s a laughing lightness about their voice that makes Tobio lift his face up from the sidewalk to look at them. They’re giggling, their eyes nearly shut with glee, all of their teeth sticking out in a ferocious smile. It’s infectious, and despite his general bad mood and bad luck, Tobio finds himself smiling back. 

Suga shakes off like a dog when they reach the lobby of the apartment building, and little droplets of water sprinkle around them and fall to the floor. Tobio leaves a tiny puddle where he stands as Suga closes the umbrella and jams it in the holder.

“Elevator’s broken,” Suga says, heading for the stairs. “Been broken as long as we’ve lived here. Not sure they’ll ever fix it, to be honest.”

Suga starts climbing, and Tobio follows a few steps behind. He’s out of shape, the exercise provided by table bussing a joke compared to his old regimen, and by the time they reach the third floor he has to hide the fact that he’s panting. 

“You...may want to leave your shoes here in the hallway,” Suga says, grinning at him. Tobio toes them off and shoves them close to the door frame as Suga unlocks the apartment.

The apartment is tiny, but tidy. Various jars of loose leaf tea and a mug tree are lined up on the kitchen counter. There are two spoons and two mugs in the sink; otherwise the counter is empty. There are two barstools on the other side of the island, which must be where Suga and Asahi eat, since there is absolutely no room for a table. The living room features a kotatsu that has Tobio’s toes curling in his socks. At this moment, he’d give just about anything to be underneath its warmth. A black cat is curled up in the corner on the vent; he looks up and yawns in Suga’s direction.

“Hello, Mame,” Suga greets him. They turn to Tobio and pull his sopping jacket from his shoulders. “Let’s get you out of those clothes. You can borrow some of Asahi’s, they should fit you fine.”

Tobio coughs. “It’s really alright, I don’t have to—”

Suga silences him with a glare. They were always very good at communicating without words, and at intimidating the hell out of their kouhai.

“Alright,” Tobio says meekly.

Suga nods, satisfied, and leads Tobio down the hall to the bathroom. He fidgets awkwardly while Suga retreats to fetch him some dry clothes. “Just set your clothes over the tub to dry for now,” they say as they reenter the bathroom. They set Asahi’s clothing on the counter with a towel. “We’ll let them air dry a bit before we take them down to the dryer. I’m going to start some tea and we’ll get you under that kotatsu in no time. Just yell if you need anything.”

Suga closes the door behind themself, and Tobio is left alone in the bathroom. He stands in his wet clothing another minute, looking at the sweater and pants on the counter and feeling awful and guilty. He plucks his phone out of his pocket, setting it on the counter, where it leaves a wet ring. He frowns down at it before setting about peeling off his soaked layers.

In the end he elects to keep his boxers on; they, at least, are not literally dripping with water. He wipes himself with the towel, feeling dry for the first time in what feels like hours. The fabric of Asahi’s sweater is soft between his fingers, and he feels guilt seize him again before he remembers he’s mostly naked in his old senpai’s bathroom and hustles to pull the clothing on.

The sleeves of the sweater come past Tobio's fingers, forcing him to push them up to his elbows. He is more or less the same height as Asahi now (or at least the height Asahi was in high school), but he's not as built, his shoulders narrower and his frame more slender. It smells faintly of a woodsy cologne that Tobio vaguely remembers from his high school days but never knew the source of. He looks at himself in the mirror and barely recognizes the man who looks back. A dark purple is smeared beneath his eyes, evidence of countless sleepless nights. His cheekbones are more prominent than they used to be, and he tries to remember the last time he actually cooked for himself instead of microwaving noodles. 

"Kageyama!" Suga's voice rings down the hall. "Tea's ready when you are!"

Tobio watches the blush spread over his face in the mirror. He reaches up to touch his cheek; his sleeve falls down to his wrist again.

"Coming!" he calls back, pushing the sleeve up again and looking away from his reflection. He pushes the door to the bathroom open and steps into the hallway.

The tea is fruity and sweet; he can smell that much from here. He follows the wafting scent back toward the front door and finds a mug that reads "World's Best Dad" waiting for him on the counter. A look of shock takes him over before he can rearrange his features into something more neutral.

"Is there...something I should know?" Tobio asks carefully, his fingers tracing over the words.

Suga looks at the mug again and bursts into laughter, so loud it fills the tiny apartment from floor to ceiling. "No, no, it's about the cat," Suga clarifies. They wipe a tear from their eye. "Asahi was equally horrified when I brought it home for him. He made almost the exact same face you did."

Tobio feels red burning his cheeks again. He takes the mug and sets it on the kotatsu before folding his legs underneath. His legs warm almost instantly. He sips at his tea and sighs, his eyes falling shut against his will. Mame comes over and sniffs his fingers.

"Thank you," he mumbles, just loud enough for Suga to pick it up where they stand, and they beam at him.

"Anything for an old friend," Suga says. "You're always welcome in our home, Kageyama."

Tobio isn't sure why the words make his stomach flip-flop, but they do. Perhaps it’s the way Suga says “our home,” soft and warm, filled with the quiet confidence of knowing _where_ home is. Of having a _home_ to come home to and not just an apartment that houses a futon. Perhaps it’s just Suga themself: the way their hair falls just over their forehead, the brightness in their eyes as they drink from their own mug. He realizes Suga is probably expecting an answer but he doesn't have one; he covers by taking another sip of his tea. 

"This is very good," he manages eventually.

"It's one of Asahi's brews!" Suga answers brightly. They dump some oil into a pan and look up at him. "He's been working at the same cafe since we moved into the city. He's a manager now, so he gets to do a lot of experimenting with flavors. He brings his favorites home to me. And you never did answer my question, you know."

Tobio blinks at them in confusion.

Suga drops two cuts of pork into the oil, which sizzles in a satisfying manner. Tobio's stomach growls against his will. "What are you doing on this side of town?"

Tobio looks down and away, shame washing over him anew. The cat decides Tobio is safe and curls up next to him. "I work here," Tobio mumbles, letting his fingers fall to brush over Mame's ears.

Suga doesn't answer right away. Tobio hears the sound of water being poured into a pot, and then that of a barstool being pulled out and sat upon. "I never thought you'd stop playing," they say eventually.

Tobio shakes his head. "It wasn't by choice. I ruined my shoulder."

Suga inhales sharply. "I'm so sorry, Kageyama. That must have been awful."

Tobio shrugs, and Mame lets out a little "brr" of satisfaction. Suga chuckles softly, a musical noise that Tobio has a hard time reconciling with his high school days. He remembers Suga as a fierce thing, all sharp edges and intense pride. This is a different side of them, affectionate and comfortable. 

"Mame doesn't usually warm up to people so easily. He had a hard life before he came to us."

"How long have you and Asahi-san lived together?" Tobio asks, edging the conversation further away from himself.

"Oh, more or less since high school," Suga says. They stand up again and go around the counter, taking a pair of chopsticks in their hand and flipping the pork cutlets. "There were a few months before I could convince him to move to the city, but we worked it out in the end."

Tobio chews the inside of his cheek. “Why did you want Asahi-san to move to the city? Did he know someone at the cafe? Or did you?”

Suga narrows their eyes at him. The pork continues to sizzle in its pan. Mame bumps Tobio’s hand to get him to keep petting him.

“Kageyama...Asahi and I are—”

The door swings open, and Asahi enters the apartment. “Hello!” he says, slipping off his shoes and coming into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around Suga’s waist and buries his face in their neck. Suga all but melts against him, one hand coming up to rest against his cheek.

“Dating,” Suga says, and Asahi looks at him, bewildered.

“What?” he asks.

They point at Tobio with their chopsticks. “Kageyama’s here.”

Asahi drops his arms like he’s been burned and backs away from Suga. His eyes are wide and fearful, and Tobio puts both hands in the air.

“It’s fine,” he says, “um—hello, Asahi-san. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Asahi agrees, still guarded. “What are you doing here? Are...Koushi, are those my clothes?”

“I invited him!” Suga says brightly. They dump noodles into the boiling pot and poke at the pork with the chopsticks. “I ran directly into him, and he was soaking, so I told him to join us for dinner!”

Tobio blanches. “Oh, I don’t have to stay for—”

“You’ll stay!” Suga says. They shoot him another of their looks before they turn to Asahi. “Look, Mame likes him.”

Mame has unfolded himself from the ball he was in and is sitting up on his back legs, batting at Tobio’s still-raised hand. Tobio looks down, blinks at the cat, then lowers his hand so Mame can rub his cheek against it. He looks back to Suga and Asahi.

Asahi shrugs. “If it’s okay with Mame, it’s okay with me.”

Suga laughs as Asahi removes his jacket and hangs it by the door. He wraps his arms around Suga again, and they murmur to each other in voices Tobio can’t hear. Mame headbutts his way into Tobio’s lap and flops onto his back ungracefully, purring like mad as Tobio scratches under his chin. 

“So what brings you over to this side of town?” Asahi asks, his voice suddenly much louder than before. Tobio looks up and finds he’s seated himself on the opposite side of the kotatsu, his tea held in two hands.

“I, um. I work at the pizza shop around the corner.”

Asahi nods slowly, processing. “You live nearby?”

“My apartment’s closer to the stadium.” _Which was convenient when I was playing_ , is what goes unsaid, but Asahi seems to understand. 

“That’s quite a commute.”

“An hour on a good day.”

“You don’t plan to ride the bus home tonight, do you?” Suga asks from the kitchen. 

Tobio shrinks in on himself. “I did, yes.”

“No,” Suga says. “No, I’d rather you stay here. It’s too late to be out. I’m going to put your clothes in the dryer downstairs. Asa, try to make sure he doesn’t run out on you. And don’t let the pork burn, please.”

Suga retreats to the bathroom, returning with Tobio’s clothing in their arms. At least the clothes aren't dripping now. They lean in and offer Asahi a kiss on the cheek before sliding into a pair of slippers by the door and heading downstairs.

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” Tobio says.

Asahi shakes his head as he stands. “Please don’t worry about it. I’m glad Suga found you. Caught without an umbrella?”

“Yes.”

Asahi nods. “I don’t remember you saying anything about being especially passionate about cooking when I knew you.” He pokes at the pork in the pan with a chopstick.

Tobio looks away from him. “I’m a busboy.”

“You got hurt.”

Tobio looks up to see Asahi watching him closely. He’d forgotten how sharp Asahi was, how quickly he learned. “Yes. A year ago.”

It’s another long moment before Asahi speaks. “That had to be devastating. I know how much you loved the game.”

Tobio doesn’t answer. Mame stands up and circles before plopping down again and looking expectantly at Tobio. 

“I wasn’t like you,” Asahi says. Tobio keeps his eyes focused on the cat. “I was scared. I only came back because of Koushi. Daichi, too, I suppose, and Noya, but mostly Koushi.”

“Were you together then?” Tobio asks. Belatedly, he realizes this might be too personal of a question, and he goes to formulate an apology, but Asahi’s already speaking.

“Not quite yet,” Asahi says. “It took Koushi leaving for Tokyo for me to realize how much I loved them.”

Suga returns, free of Tobio’s wet laundry. “They’ll be ready in a bit,” they say. They wrap their arms around Asahi’s waist from behind and poke their head out from behind him. “And dinner’s about ready, excellent timing.”

Tobio looks intently down at the kotatsu while they plate the noodles and pork, feeling very much like he’s intruding into an intimate moment. Suga and Asahi move around each other in the tiny kitchen in a practiced dance, and with each step that brings them together they exchange a kiss on the forehead or cheek or lips. Asahi carries glasses of water over to the kotatsu and sits across from Tobio.

Suga sets one bowl in front of him. Tobio bites his lip as they set the other in front of Asahi.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I…?”

Suga narrows their eyes. “Eat the food I prepared for you? I wish you would.”

Tobio picks up his chopsticks with fingers that he’d like to pretend aren’t trembling. He can ignore it, at the very least. The first bite is actual heaven; the flavors balance perfectly, the crunch of the pork is light and airy, the way it should be. Suga, it turns out, is an excellent cook, and Tobio has a hard time reconciling that with the Suga of his high school days too.

Tobio loses track of the conversation as he eats, the words blurring in the atmosphere around him. He tries to pick out words that he recognizes, but he realizes halfway through his meal that he’s entirely exhausted. The socialization is far, far more than he’s used to, and his eyes droop.

“Kageyama?” Asahi asks, and Tobio startles and opens his eyes again.

“Sorry,” he says automatically.

Asahi’s eyes crinkle around the edges. “Nothing to apologize for. I just asked if you were enjoying the food.”

“Oh.” Tobio nods. “Yes, very much so. You’re an amazing cook, Suga-san.”

Suga blushes. “Flatterer.”

“I was asking because you haven’t touched it in about five minutes,” Asahi observes. “Are you alright?”

Tobio pointedly takes another bite of his meal and gives both of them a thumbs up, and Asahi laughs.

“Alright, alright,” Asahi says. He reaches out an arm and touches Tobio’s forearm. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

Tobio’s bowl is empty by the time he tunes back in to what Suga and Asahi are saying. It’s a quiet conversation, not meant for his ears, really, but not trying to be kept secret. They discuss co-workers and work problems and the one bathroom that never has soap at Suga’s work and all manner of other boring, unimportant things. It’s comfortable between them in a way Tobio has never felt with anyone, and he tries to push past the yearning and concentrate.

“Will you ever go back to it?” Asahi asks, turning his head to Tobio. 

Tobio blinks. “To volleyball?”

“We were talking about Kuroo’s team,” Suga explains. “He’s just joined a minor league team here in the city.”

“From Nekoma,” Tobio recalls. “That’s nice.”

“We haven’t seen him in a few months, he’s been so busy,” Asahi says thoughtfully. “We should get together with him sometime. He’s...in a group with us.”

“A group?” Tobio questions.

Asahi and Suga glance at each other. “I’m sorry if I was unkind when I first got home,” Asahi says. He smiles sheepishly. “I’m not used to company unexpectedly, and I don’t always know how we’re going to be received.”

“Because you’re gay?” Tobio asks.

Suga laughs. “To put it bluntly, yes, although I identify as bi and Asahi identifies as demi.”

Tobio looks away. “It’s alright. I am, too. Gay, I mean.”

“Oh!” 

Suga scoots over and pulls Tobio into a hug that they release quickly. If they catch the surprise in his eyes, they don’t comment on it. 

“Thank you for telling us,” they say. “I imagine it can’t have been easy.”

Tobio takes a deep breath. “Hinata knows, but no one else does.”

Asahi stands up from the kotatsu and goes around behind the counter, beginning to wash the dishes in the sink. “It gets easier,” he says quietly. “Eventually.”

“It’s easier for you?” Tobio asks.

Asahi shrugs. “Easier than it was, anyway. The folks at work know, and they know Koushi. They’re either supportive or quiet. It’s not all bad. And there’s the group I was talking about.”

“We queers like to stick together,” Suga says.

Tobio nods as if he knows anything about it. “Of course.”

Suga smiles at him for a moment before they stand. “It’s getting late. We should let you get some sleep.”

Tobio looks up in alarm. “Sleep? I have to get home, the bus—”

“We’ve got a futon,” Suga says. “You’ll stay.”

Tobio meets Asahi’s eyes.

“There’s really no point in arguing with them once they’ve made up their mind,” he says. “You’re not likely to get anything but a headache that way.”

Tobio takes a deep breath and pushes away the anxiety that threatens to surge up inside of him. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful,” Suga says, clapping their hands together. “I’ll go get the futon, then.”

They start toward the bedroom, but turn back shortly and kneel down in front of Tobio.

“I’m glad I ran into you tonight, Kageyama,” they say, reaching out a hand to put on his shoulder. Tobio looks down at it before looking back up at Suga. “It’s really good to catch up with you.”

Tobio doesn’t feel much like he deserves this kindness, but it’s been granted to him all the same. 

“You too, Suga-san. And you, Asahi-san. Thank you both very much for your hospitality.”

Asahi smiles at him from the sink, and Suga holds out another moment, their fingers squeezing Tobio’s shoulder, before they stand and go to unearth the futon from wherever it’s currently hiding.

Tobio yawns widely and looks up at the clock. It’s nearly one in the morning; the busses don’t run this late anyway. He suspects Suga kept him this late on purpose. 

It’s not like he has anywhere else to be.

Asahi comes around the counter and sits on a barstool, looking closely at Tobio.

“I seem to remember you being concerned in high school about animals not liking you,” Asahi says, looking down at Mame. He’s entirely passed out in Tobio’s lap.

Tobio looks up at Asahi, bewildered that he should remember such a little detail. He wonders what else Asahi might know.

“I was.”

_ii. i've still got my fear_

Tobio now possesses a key to Suga and Asahi's apartment.

He'd been bewildered when Asahi had slid it across the counter one night after he'd gotten home from the cafe. Apparently Suga had had him stop on the way home to copy his own. It was just a plain key, gold and shiny, but Tobio had looked up with confusion in his eyes. Asahi had given him a warm smile.

"You know how Koushi is," he’d explained. He’d tapped the key a few times, and Tobio had followed the motion with his eyes. "Don't question it."

And so Tobio doesn't. Mostly. He spends more time at their apartment than his own, anyway, especially when he's got a late shift followed by an early one and can't be arsed to go all the way across town when Suga and Asahi live right here. The spare futon stays rolled up in the corner of the living room when Tobio isn't using it and hasn't seen the inside of the closet in weeks.

There have been several aspects of life in their apartment that have taken Tobio time to get accustomed to. Not the least of these are the casual touches. Asahi and Suga touch each other constantly, and that’s to be expected since they’re a couple. But both of them touch him, too. Hands on the shoulder when they’re talking, hands on the waist when they’re squeezing past him, thighs flush together when they sit beside him at the kotatsu, hugs when it looks like he’s had a bad day at work, hugs just because they feel like it. Suga was more handsy at first, but the more time Tobio has spent in the apartment, the more comfortable Asahi has gotten with him, too. 

Another thing is the attention. Tobio would have been more than content to just hide in a corner of the apartment and stay out of Suga and Asahi’s way, but they have absolutely refused him this. Every time he comes over, they watch a movie together with Asahi’s laptop on the kotatsu and all three of them squished under one side, or Suga suggests a game night, or they simply sit together with cups of tea in front of them and talk. Tobio’s talked more in the last few weeks than he has in the entire year since he left the team.

He’s finding that he doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would.

It’s raining outside again, but Tobio is currently under the kotatsu and feeling very toasty. Mame is in his lap, his tail twitching in his sleep, and Asahi is across from him. The patter of raindrops is the only sound in the apartment. Between them lies a Scrabble board. Asahi picks up a tile and brushes his thumb across it, the corner of his lip sucked between his teeth in thought.

“Some people play that once you pick up a tile you have to use it, you know,” Tobio says, and Asahi startles slightly as he looks up from the board. He tilts his head at Tobio.

“You’re not those people, are you?”

“No.”

Asahi grins and sets the tile back down in front of him. “But you know those people.”

“Ennoshita-san was those people.”

Asahi hums. “I don’t think I ever played Scrabble with Ennoshita.”

Tobio shudders. “It was the worst volleyball retreat of all time.”

Asahi sets some tiles down and forms a word before spinning the board so Tobio can see more clearly. He marks the points down on the scrap beside him; he’d volunteered without prompting, seemingly knowing Tobio doesn’t have a head for numbers. Tobio can’t recall ever mentioning it to him specifically. 

Under the table, Asahi adjusts his leg, and his foot touches Tobio's shin. He doesn't move it. Tobio says nothing.

“Speaking of volleyball,” Asahi says. “I have a question for you.”

Tobio’s brows knit together. He forms a word and spins the board back around to Asahi. “Go ahead, then.”

“Have you considered playing again?”

Tobio stares hard at Asahi, who’s occupied noting Tobio’s score and looking down at his own tiles. It’s a minute before he notices Tobio’s gaze and stops fussing with his tiles.

“It’s just a question, Kageyama,” Asahi says lightly. “I haven’t seen you look like that since high school.”

Tobio squirms and looks away. “Sorry.”

“I’m teasing.” Asahi lays down a word and turns the board around. “I do that, sometimes.”

“Right,” says Tobio, flustered.

“You don’t have to answer me now,” Asahi says. He marks his points then puts the pen down, folding his hands on the kotatsu. “But you should know Koushi’s the one who got me to ask, so when I tell them you haven’t answered you’ll get the third degree from them.”

Tobio sighs. “Thanks for the warning.”

They play in silence for a while. Asahi pulls ahead of Tobio in points, probably because Tobio is too distracted by the question Asahi had asked.

Of course he’s thought about playing again. He misses volleyball with every part of himself. He yearns to be back on the court again.

But he’s never been anything but the best, and he can’t be at his best anymore. His shoulder still hurts more often than not, even if it’s a passing, forgettable pain. No amount of Salonpas is ever going to make him the player he used to be.

He doesn’t know if he can handle being second-best at the only thing he’s ever loved.

Suga comes home from work with carryout in their hands. They set it down on the counter and breeze past Asahi and Tobio at the kotatsu, offering a kiss for Asahi and a hair ruffling for Tobio. Mame gets up and follows Suga into the bedroom so they can pour him dinner, and Tobio swings his legs out and stretches them gratefully.

“That’s the last of the tiles,” Asahi says, playing two letters onto the board. “I think that means I win.”

“Good game, Asahi-san.”

Asahi offers him a fist bump, and Tobio meets it.

“Everyone’s favorites,” Suga says, sweeping back into the living room. They’ve changed into one of Asahi’s sweatshirts and a pair of pajamas with a repeating cat drinking coffee pattern. “Ramen for Asa, pork curry for Kageyama, and super spicy tofu for me. Get it while it’s hot.”

“You’re always hot,” Asahi says, grabbing Suga’s waist and pulling them into a hug. Suga giggles and kisses Asahi’s cheek.

“Not in front of the guest, Asa-chan,” Suga says.

“He has a key,” Asahi protests. “He brings home dinner once a week, he’s not a guest anymore.”

“Asahi-san is right,” Tobio says, and Suga huffs.

“My own house has turned against me. See if I bring any of you food the next time I stop for dinner.”

Tobio dishes out everyone’s dinner onto disposable plates. He stands at the end of the counter, allowing Suga and Asahi to take the two stools. Mame comes out and watches them eat, his tail swishing furiously back and forth.

“So, Kageyama,” Suga begins, a bite of dinner held tight between their chopsticks. “How about we go to the gym this weekend and play a game of volleyball?”

Tobio shudders but tries to hide it. “No, thanks.”

“It’s your first weekend off in a month,” Suga says.

“And I’d rather spend it sleeping.”

Suga raises their eyebrow. Tobio shovels more food into his mouth.

“We could go to that museum you’ve been wanting to go to,” Asahi offers. Tobio silently shoots him a grateful look. 

“Or we could go play some volleyball,” Suga says. “We could even play outside, I think the weather’s supposed to be nice.”

Tobio sighs and sets down his chopsticks. “I really would rather not.”

“Eat, Kageyama,” Asahi says. He puts one hand on Suga’s. “This conversation can wait, can’t it, Koushi?”

Suga frowns. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it.”

“Trust me,” Tobio says, picking his chopsticks back up. “I don’t.”

The atmosphere is tense in a way it hasn’t ever been between the three of them. Tobio eats his food but doesn’t taste it or enjoy it at all. The silence over them is awkward and forced, not at all comfortable in the way he’s come to associate with Asahi and Suga. He can feel Suga’s eyes on him throughout the meal, and he sticks his nose further into his food. 

“I think I’ll make tea,” Asahi announces after they finish. His voice is louder and brighter than usual; he seems to be taking it upon himself to brighten the mood. Tobio helps him clear away the remnants of the dinner trash while Suga goes over to the kotatsu. Tobio hesitates when everything is cleaned up, looking to Asahi.

“It’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “They’re not going to force you to do anything you don’t want.”

Tobio takes a deep breath and goes over to the kotatsu. He sits across from Suga, who frowns at him.

“Sorry,” they begin. “I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured.”

“It’s okay,” Tobio says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Suga reaches over and takes Tobio’s hand. “I want you to feel at ease here, and broaching a topic you clearly don’t want to discuss doesn’t help. I truly am sorry.”

Tobio squeezes Suga’s hand in his own. “I know, Suga-san. I do feel at ease here, really.”

Suga smiles at him, and they continue to hold hands for a moment. The kettle whistles, and Tobio jumps just enough to loosen his fingers from Suga’s grasp.

“Sorry,” says Asahi as they turn to look at him. “Chai tonight?”

This is another thing that Tobio has had to adjust to. Both of them, and Asahi especially, seem to catalogue everything Tobio says and does and then use that to their advantage in various ways. Asahi can tell what kind of day Tobio had by the type of tea he selects for his evening cup. On quieter nights, when work hasn’t been as bad, Tobio loves making his way through Asahi’s assorted collections of tea flavors and commenting on each one. On tougher nights, though, he reaches for the chai right away, the flavor of solace heavy on his tongue alongside the honey. It wasn’t long at all after Tobio started coming to the apartment that Asahi picked up on this. On chai nights, Asahi always prepares his second cup for him. 

“Chai is good,” Tobio agrees. Mame reappears from wherever he’d gone and lays beside Tobio.

“What is it about you that that cat loves so much?” Suga muses, grinning as Tobio reaches down and absentmindedly strokes Mame’s side. “You put catnip on the pizzas or something?”

Tobio narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “Not that I’m aware of?”

“It’s a joke, Kageyama,” Suga says, their lips still turned up. “I do wonder, though. Mame’s been attached to you since day one.”

“Cats are very empathetic, you know,” Asahi says from the kitchen. “My older brother hates cats, but they always came to him when we were kids. Street cats and stuff, you know. That was more of a torture sort of thing, though, I think. You don’t hate cats, do you, Kageyama?”

“No,” Tobio says. 

“So maybe he just knows you want his company,” Asahi suggests. 

Tobio looks down at Mame. Mame lifts his head and looks at Tobio.

“Maybe,” Tobio concedes.

Suga shrugs. “Since you’ve been staying over he doesn’t spend all night between my legs, so I’m not complaining. I wake up in the mornings and can actually walk.”

“Getting old, Koushi,” Asahi says. It’s a testament to how much time they’ve been spending together that Tobio can see the easy, teasing grin on his face without turning around. 

Suga squawks indignantly. “I’m older than you by six months, Azumane, and still perfectly capable of kicking your ass.”

Asahi hums pleasantly. “I’d like to see you try, Sugawara.”

Suga launches up from the kotatsu, and Tobio turns just in time to see them jump onto Asahi’s side. Asahi catches them like they weigh nothing, wrapping an arm around their waist, and they pound ineffectually at his chest and back while Tobio laughs. 

“Face me like a man, Azumane!” Suga screeches.

Asahi sets them down and enfolds Suga in a bear hug that keeps their arms pinned at their sides. Their ‘fight’ dissolves into laughter, and Asahi releases Suga so they can kiss.

When he first started visiting, the sight of the constant displays of affection between them bothered Tobio in a way he couldn’t describe. Now they’re just another part of life.

“So much for not in front of the guest,” Asahi says. “Your tea’s ready, get out of my kitchen.”

“It wasn’t your kitchen when I was cooking you dinner last night,” Suga says, bumping Asahi’s hip with their own. They take their mug and Tobio’s (they always make him use the World’s Best Dad one, just because Suga thinks it’s funny) and carry them over to the kotatsu. Asahi shakes his head and follows after them with his own mug.

“Let me ask you something,” Asahi says, settling in next to Suga. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, Asahi-san,” Tobio says.

Asahi smiles. He’s tried to get Tobio to drop the honorific. Tobio stubbornly clings to it anyway.

“Is it volleyball in general you don’t want to talk about? Or just the subject of you playing?”

Tobio sighs and picks up his mug. The aroma is rich and comforting, and it sheathes him in a protective blanket. 

He can talk to them about this. He can trust them. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to play anymore,” he says slowly. “I really miss playing, honestly. And when Hinata sends pictures of the team all together it makes me miss it even more.”

Asahi and Suga look at each other. Tobio takes a sip of his tea.

“I’m no good anymore,” he says. He looks down and away. “Nothing like how I used to be.”

There’s a moment of silence before Suga snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kageyama,” they say, and it comes out harsh.

Asahi and Tobio stare at them.

“Sorry,” they murmur. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean...you’re you, you know? You’re the best setter I’ve ever seen, the best setter Japan has ever seen, maybe. An injury wouldn’t set you that far back.”

“You’d be surprised,” Tobio sighs. He pushes his mug around on the surface of the kotatsu. “I tried to go back after I was cleared, but it hurt so badly. I played half a match before they had to pull me. I couldn’t see where the spikers were going to be. It was awful.”

Asahi reaches over and puts a hand on Tobio’s knee. “I’m sorry. I know how terrible that must have been for you.”

It’s quiet for several moments. Asahi and Suga sip from their tea. Tobio’s stomach turns over and over inside of him.

“How long ago was that?” Suga asks.

Tobio looks up at them. “What?”

“How long ago was it that you tried to play again?”

Tobio counts back. “Eight or nine months, probably.”

“And you’ve been keeping up with your physical therapy?”

Tobio nods.

“So there’s a good chance you wouldn’t feel like that if you tried again,” they conclude.

“Koushi,” Asahi says quietly.

“I mean it,” Suga says adamantly. They turn their gaze back to Tobio, and it’s fierce and intimidating. It reminds Tobio of the Suga who promised they wouldn’t give up the setter position so easily back in high school. “You hate your job, and I don’t blame you. It’s disgusting and awful and you don’t make what you should, and it’s not what you want to do with your life. Think about it, Kageyama. Where do you see yourself in a year? Three years? Five years?”

Tobio clenches his jaw. It’s not like he hasn’t had these thoughts himself, but it’s a lot harder to hear it from Suga. He knows they have his best interests at heart, but it cuts right through him nonetheless.

“I don’t know,” he grits out, and Suga shakes their head.

“That’s not the Kageyama I know,” they insist. “You used to have a plan, you knew what you wanted and how to get it. You want to play volleyball again. It takes small steps. It takes going and practicing at the gym with us this weekend. We won’t push you any harder than you can handle, but please. Please come play with us.”

Suga reaches over to take Tobio’s hand again; their hand collides with his cup, sending it crashing over the edge of the kotatsu into Tobio’s lap.

“Fuck,” they swear, righting the mug as quickly as they can. It’s too late for Tobio’s pants and shirt, which are now covered in tea. He’s belatedly grateful Mame was next to him and not in his lap, as he so frequently is. “I’m so sorry, Tobio.”

Tobio freezes. 

It’s the first time Suga’s used his given name.

“It’s fine,” he manages through the shock of it all. Asahi offers him a napkin, but it doesn’t do much to absorb the liquid that’s seeping into his clothing.

Suga sighs. “I’m so sorry,” they repeat. They offer him a hand up. “Come on, you can borrow some clothes again.”

“I don’t have to—”

Suga rolls their eyes. “You’re covered in tea. It’s going to get sticky shortly. Best to change now.”

Tobio doesn’t argue further. Suga helps him to his feet and he follows them, Asahi close behind both of them.

It’s the first time Tobio’s been inside Asahi and Suga’s bedroom. The first thing to catch his eye is the bright purplish-blue blanket that covers the bed, looking like the night sky. The basket in the corner is overflowing with yarn. On a shelf against the far wall are several Pokemon plush lined up carefully, and Tobio wonders which of them is the collector. 

Suga digs through the dresser and unearths a pair of pajama pants that have seen better days. “Is this all you have, Asa?”

“Laundry day,” Asahi says. He shoots an apologetic grin in Tobio’s direction. “Sorry.”

Tobio shakes his head. “It’s really okay.”

“You’re staying the night, yeah?” Suga says, their head still buried in the dresser. “You don’t want to sleep in those, do you?”

They throw the pants in Tobio’s direction, and a shirt thereafter. Tobio recognizes the shirt as the one Noya had made Asahi back in high school.

“I can’t believe that’s still in there,” Asahi says, looking over Tobio’s shoulder to examine it. “I didn’t realize I’d kept it.”

“We should watch a movie,” Suga says abruptly. “Go get changed and I’ll make you a fresh cup of tea.”

Tobio knows better than to argue. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and when he turns Asahi’s giving him a strange look, one that passes over his face too quickly for Kageyama to parse out. 

The clothes fit fine, and Tobio takes a moment to catch his reflection in the mirror again. It’s a stark contrast to the Tobio who stood here several weeks prior, soaked to the bone and intruding on Suga and Asahi’s hospitality. There’s some life in his eyes again, some color in his face. He’s been getting more sleep, and the purple isn’t quite as prominent beneath his eyes.

Someone knocks at the bathroom door, and Tobio opens it to reveal Asahi.

Asahi’s eyes look him up and down, and Tobio wonders if he sees the same differences Tobio saw. “Koushi wanted to know if you wanted chai again,” he says. His voice is quiet, his eyes too intense for the question he’s asking.

“Chai is fine,” Tobio says. “I’m coming out, I can tell them.”

Asahi steps back, and Tobio shoots him another glance as he steps out of the bathroom. He wonders what was said while he was changing, to make Asahi act so strangely.

“He says chai is fine,” Asahi says as the two of them return to the kitchen. Tobio can’t help but smile to himself. 

“Delightful,” Suga says, pulling the container out from the cabinet. They rinse the infuser and set it on a napkin to dry.

Asahi sits on a barstool. “You’re cleared to play again, right?” he asks.

Tobio frowns. Mame weaves his way between his feet, and Tobio bends over to pick him up automatically. “Technically,” he answers, as Mame settles himself on Tobio’s shoulders. 

“Then what’s stopping you?” 

Tobio feels the question like a punch to his gut. Asahi’s eyes are trained on him, patient but expectant. Mame’s purrs are like a freight train in his ears.

“Chai,” Suga says, passing the mug his way. Tobio hadn’t noticed the tea was done. Suga leans on the counter, both elbows holding up their chin. “You could join a rec league. Just to get back into it.”

“I don’t want to join a rec league,” Tobio says quickly.

Suga and Asahi both pin him with a look. Sadness in Asahi’s eyes. Something akin to frustration in Suga’s.

“Let’s just drop it,” Tobio says. He takes a sip of his tea, careful not to dislodge Mame. “I’ve got an early shift in the morning.”

Suga and Asahi look at each other, something passing between them in the psychic way that couples have. Suga looks back at Tobio with a bright smile.

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow night, then,” they announce, and Tobio gets the feeling the subject won’t be dropped any time soon. “Movie time. Romance or comedy?”

_iii. we're connected by a thread_

Tobio feels like his heart is pounding out of control from the moment he wakes up.

In many ways, this morning is the same as most other mornings have been the last few months. Mame is curled up in a ball on his chest; one of his feet is burning where it’s under the kotatsu. He’s woken before Asahi or Suga, who both have the day off and are probably taking the chance to sleep in, so there’s no one cooking or making tea in the kitchen. The apartment is quiet, even when Mame meows when he realizes Tobio’s awake. 

“We’ll go in a minute,” he says to the cat. “Let your parents sleep in.”

Mame settles back down, but Tobio can’t help but feel like the cat is glaring at him.

Nerves bubble up in Tobio’s stomach. He checks his phone and confirms they’ve got plenty of time before they need to be at the station, but the urge to get up, to get ready, to do _something_ , sits uncomfortably on his shoulders and digs its nails into his skin.

Winter has wormed its way into the city, and while the rain has finally stopped, it’s also brutally cold. Tobio spends most of his time snuggled under the kotatsu or drinking Asahi’s latest brew. Suga had brought their laptop over to the kotatsu one day, pushed in to sit beside him, and loudly, dramatically began to look at volleyball teams in the Tokyo area. 

“I get it,” Tobio had said after five or so minutes of this. 

“Do you?” Suga had asked, their gaze sharp. “Because you are better than the pizza shop, Tobio, and you deserve so much more.”

Tobio had gritted his teeth, prepared to fight back, when Suga laid their hand over his. Their eyes had gone soft, and they’d offered him a gentle smile. Their fingers squeezed his.

“I just want to see you happy.”

Tobio is playing that moment over in his head when the bedroom door opens and closes again. Tobio turns his head to see an extremely sleepy Suga shuffling toward the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he greets them, inclining his head. 

“Good morning,” Suga answers. They run a hand through their hair and let out a huge yawn. Tobio watches as they rub their eyes, look around for the kettle only to find it on the stove, and pull a jar of leaves down from the cabinet. They go about their routine of fixing tea; the kettle is mostly boiling before they look up at Tobio, brows furrowed. “Big day.”

Tobio’s heart pounds some more. “Yes.”

“Nervous?”

Tobio shrugs.

Suga grins, less sharp than usual since they’re not quite awake yet. “No reason to be. It’s you, right?”

Tobio doesn’t answer that. The door to the bedroom opens and shuts again, and Asahi enters the living room and leans against the counter. He eyes Tobio.

“Big day.”

Tobio huffs. Mame meows again, and before anyone can say anything he’s on his feet, following the cat into the bedroom. 

He feeds Mame then locks himself in the bathroom, turning away from the mirror and folding his arms over his chest. He checks his phone again, confirming there’ve been no messages to cancel his tryout. When the screen comes up blank, he sighs and tips his face back to the ceiling.

There’s no use being nervous, he tells himself. It’s just a tryout, just a practice. He’s practiced a thousand times before.

He’s almost got himself convinced by the time he gets in the shower.

By the time he reappears in the kitchen, having changed into suitable travel clothes, there’s a bowl of breakfast at his usual spot at the island. Asahi, evidently, went all out: there’s bacon, eggs, and sausage over his usual rice. 

He lifts his eyes to Asahi. Guilt over his previous manner eats at him, and he frowns. “Sorry about before.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Asahi says, waving a hand. “Koushi’s always at least that grumpy in the morning.”

“Asa!” Suga says, wrapping their arms around Asahi’s waist and tugging him half out of his chair. “Don’t be rude!”

“It’s not rude if it’s the truth, you told me that yourself!” Asahi cries through his laughter.

Tobio watches them as he eats. They carry on as usual, but their glances shift his way every few minutes. He can tell they want to talk to him about the day, but they hold off. He supposes it must be the face he’s making.

There’s a lot of rushing around after breakfast. Suga checks Tobio’s duffel three times to make sure he’s got everything he needs, even though they watched Tobio pack the night before. He wonders if it’s an expression of Suga’s nervousness. He wonders if they’re nervous on his behalf or nervous for something else. He really couldn’t say.

“We leave in ten!” Suga says after the last time they zip the bag up. They stop their rapid pacing through the apartment long enough to look at Tobio, long and hard. Tobio has wondered frequently whether Suga’s gaze sees past his skin and into his soul, and the question appears again in his mind as Suga’s eyes meet his own.

“Tobio,” Suga says quietly, breathing it out like a sigh. They reach their hand up and place their palm against Tobio’s neck. Tobio’s heart screams, raging against the imprisonment of his ribcage. “Are you alright?”

Tobio looks into Suga’s eyes for another moment and knows he can’t hide it. Instead of answering, he ducks his head, casting his gaze to the floor.

“Bathroom,” he says shortly. He walks that way and shuts the door behind himself. 

He stares into the mirror with a frown. The dark circles under his eyes are gone. He’s cut back on his shifts at the pizza shop in recent weeks, occupied with practice and workouts to get himself back into shape. And it shows in the way his shoulders fill out his shirt a little better than they did before, the way he feels refreshed after the climb up three flights to Asahi and Suga’s apartment instead of feeling winded. Still, there’s something _off_ about the way he feels today that he just can’t shake.

Outside the bathroom door he hears quiet voices. Asahi and Suga are worried, probably rightly so, and he sighs as he opens the door to see Suga lifting their hand to knock.

“You wanna talk about it?” Asahi asks as he and Suga enter the bathroom.

Tobio sighs and looks up at his reflection in the mirror. He has to name it, this feeling inside; if he doesn’t, he can’t defeat it.

“I’m not ready for this.”

“Bullshit,” Suga says.

“You were practically born ready for this, Tobio,” Asahi says. He puts a heavy hand on Tobio’s shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

“You know, that’s an important question you’ve raised, Asa,” Suga muses. “Tobio, did you, in fact, come out of the womb playing volleyball?”

Tobio laughs despite himself. Suga knows exactly how to get him to lighten up. It’s a little uncanny. 

Since the first time Suga used his given name, with hot tea spreading all over his lap, they haven’t stopped using it. And Asahi’s taken to using it now, too. Tobio still can’t bring himself to use Suga’s given name, but he’s at least dropped the honorific off of both theirs and Asahi’s names.

“You want this, right?” Suga says, more lightly now. They touch their hand to Tobio’s shoulder, and he turns his head to meet their eyes. “You want to play again?

Since that moment at the kotatsu weeks before, Suga’s words have haunted Tobio. Suga, as always, had found the way to get under his skin, and before Tobio was quite sure about anything, he found himself reaching out to his former coaches and trainers, and in doing so had secured a tryout with a team back in Sendai: the Frogs. If he gets the position he’ll be leaving Tokyo, leaving everything he’s known since he graduated high school.

Leaving Asahi and Suga.

He’s tried not to think too much about that part of it.

“I look terrible in green,” he says. It’s not a direct answer to the question, he knows, but he hopes Suga will let it slide. 

Asahi ruffles his hair. “I’ve never known you to be vain about something like that.”

“We need to leave soon if we’re going to be to the station on time,” Suga says. 

And still they stand there. Tobio looks at Asahi and Suga in the mirror. A few months ago he’d had next to nothing to call home in the city, a bare apartment across town from his shitty job. But Suga and Asahi had changed all of that. They’d given him hospitality when he had nothing to offer in return, food and clothing when he couldn’t possibly pay them, and gentle but firm advice that has brought him to where he is now, on the verge of being able to play volleyball again.

Tokyo has been the city where he’s lived since he graduated high school, but he hadn’t had a home until Suga had run into him at the bus stop. And it’s not the apartment itself that boasts that title.

Asahi and Suga are home for him.

He’s just having this realization when Suga grabs his hand and tugs him out of the bathroom. “Come on, you can’t be late on your first day,” they’re saying, and Tobio is hearing the words but not processing them. He finds himself suddenly in the living room, where a coat is pushed into his hands. He pulls it on automatically, going through the motions like some sort of robot.

Mame comes trotting out from the bedroom, and Tobio pauses on the third button of his coat to bend over and pick him up. Mame winds himself around Tobio’s neck, as he usually does, and purrs loudly into his ear. Leaving the city will mean leaving Mame, too, and the weight of that on top of everything else he’s grappling with at the moment has acid rising in the back of his throat. He pulls Mame off his shoulders and grips him under his forearms, leaning to press his forehead against the cat’s.

“Bye, Mame,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes and listens to the rumbles Mame produces. Asahi had told him once that cat’s purrs are healing to humans, that they’re emitted on a wavelength that’s calming for human brains or something. He can almost believe that in this moment, as Mame grooms his nose. 

Asahi’s hand finds his shoulder again, and Tobio glances over at him. His eyes are serious; Tobio wonders if he’s had the same realizations Tobio’s been dealing with. 

“We have to go,” Asahi says. His voice is quiet, a little sad. It tears Tobio apart.

Tobio bonks Mame’s head one more time with his own and sets him down beside the kotatsu. He reaches for his duffel, but Suga hefts it over their shoulder before he can get to it. With Asahi’s arm around his shoulders and Suga’s hand at his low back, Tobio is ushered out the door of their apartment. 

They’re making the walk to the closest train station. It’s not far, just ten minutes by foot, but Tobio regrets agreeing to it as soon as they step outside. The wind cuts through his thin coat, which, he realizes, he forgot to fully button up after picking Mame up. He adjusts this and continues on. 

“So,” Suga says brightly, a puff of air forming in front of their mouth. “You feeling warm?”

Tobio furrows his brows. “Not particularly. It’s cold out.”

“Not literally,” Suga says, a huff that’s somewhere between amusement and annoyance bubbling out from them. “I mean are you limber? Your muscles loose? You’re not hurting today, are you?”

“Try not to dote so much, Koushi,” Asahi says. “I’ll start to think you like him more than me.”

Suga laughs, loud and raucous, even as Tobio’s face turns a lovely shade of red that has nothing to do with the cold. 

“Joke’s on you, Azumane,” Suga says, reaching around Tobio to poke Asahi in the side. “I’ve always liked him better than you.”

Tobio’s blush continues, spurred on by Asahi’s deep, easy laughter. Tobio keeps his head down to hide his embarrassment and tugs his coat a little closer to himself. Asahi’s laughter stops, suddenly, and his fingers brush the inside of Tobio’s elbow.

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

Tobio looks up to meet his eyes, which are browner than ever and full of concern. A strand of hair has fallen loose from his bun and rests across his forehead. Tobio bites his lip.

“S’cold,” he mumbles again, his fingers itching to reach up and tuck the strand away, and he has no idea where that urge might have come from or what it might mean.

Suga turns suddenly and unwraps Asahi’s scarf from his neck. Asahi doesn’t even protest as Suga winds it around Tobio, who finds himself speechless.

“Prewarmed and everything,” Suga says. They turn back to tuck the loose strand of hair behind Asahi’s ear before standing on tip-toes to offer him a kiss. Asahi runs a hand through Suga’s hair and offers them a warm smile before walking on.

Tobio is certain Asahi and Suga are talking as they continue on toward the train station, but he doesn’t comprehend anything they’re saying. He offers grunts and nods when he thinks it’s appropriate, but he can hardly think past the way his brain is becoming intimately acquainted with Asahi’s smell. He tucks his nose into the scarf and breathes in deep. In his head, he watches Suga tucking Asahi’s hair behind his ear on loop, their easy intimacy feeling both familiar and new. He’s been watching them all this time, and yet something is just clicking in his head.

Asahi had ruffled his hair this morning, had put a hand to his shoulder, had met his eyes with some sort of deep emotion. Asahi had ruffled Suga’s hair just now, had put a hand to their shoulder, had met their eyes with something similar. And Suga’s always touching him: stealing Asahi’s scarf to wrap around his neck, touching their hand to his back, his face, his hands.

They treat each other almost the same way they treat him.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

His ticket is already purchased, buried in the pocket of his sweats. Asahi finds a bench near his platform and the three of them occupy it, Tobio between Asahi and Koushi, his duffel at their feet. Asahi checks his watch.

“Five minutes,” he announces. He sets his hand back in his lap. “So...we’ll have to come see you in Sendai.”

Tobio looks up at him and tries to read the emotions there, but it’s carefully arranged, blank and empty. 

“If I make the team,” Tobio says.

Suga throws an arm around him. “You don’t really think there’s any doubt of that, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Tobio answers, as honestly as he can. “I haven’t played, really played, for a long time.”

“You’ve been kicking our asses on the court for a month now,” Suga says. They squeeze Tobio’s shoulder. “You’re every bit the player you’ve always been, Tobio. Don’t doubt yourself so much. It’s not like you.”

Tobio sighs and looks up at the ceiling. He wants to acknowledge that Suga probably is right: he’s the strongest he’s been since he got carted off the court over a year ago. In the two-on-twos they’ve been playing with Kuroo on the weekends, his team wins every time, no matter who his partner is. Unless something goes horribly wrong, he will likely make the team he’s auditioning for. And yet, nervousness claws at his insides, grips at his lungs. Are those feelings because he thinks he won’t make the team?

Or because he thinks he will?

“It’ll be nice to live in a quieter city,” Asahi says, cutting into his thoughts. He’s grinning now when Tobio looks at him. “I’m a little jealous, truth be told.”

“You love living in Tokyo just as much as I do,” Koushi says. They rest their chin on Tobio’s shoulder. “You can’t pretend you don’t.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Asahi admits. “Especially now that I’m not getting lost every other day.”

“Took him a year and a half to figure out where our apartment was,” Koushi whispers conspiratorially into Tobio’s ear. Their breath causes goosebumps to break out over Tobio’s skin. “We almost invested in Google with how much he used Maps.”

Asahi laughs. “I wasn’t that bad,” he says. “You’re overexaggerating.”

“Remember when you showed up three hours after your shift ended soaked to the bone because your phone had died and you made a wrong turn?” Suga says. “You looked worse than Tobio the night I found him.”

Tobio flushes. He remembers it so clearly; that night turned out to be life changing. He lifts his eyes to Suga, who offers him a tiny smile.

“Worse than Mame the night you found _him_ ,” Asahi agrees. His smile turns sheepish. “That was only once, though.”

“The night of our anniversary when you were so late dinner went cold,” Suga recalls. They lift their chin off Tobio’s shoulder and begin to tick the incidences off on their fingers. “The night you called me from the cafe because you’d somehow managed to walk your way back there instead of home. The night you somehow ended up at Kuroo’s apartment instead of ours.”

“Alright, alright!” Asahi laughs. “Let it be known, I would very literally be lost without Koushi.”

Tobio looks at Asahi, whose eyes are trained on Suga. The way the two of them love each other has always been beautiful to Tobio; it’s written all over both of them, in every interaction they share. Even now, in a public train station, surrounded by crowds of people, it’s like they have eyes only for each other.

Except that’s not quite right, because just as he’s thinking it, Asahi’s gaze finds him. When he glances at Suga, he finds their eyes on him, too. Words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“I think I would be, too,” he says quietly.

The answer takes Asahi by surprise; his gaze flickers to Suga, and he’s opening his mouth to respond when the announcer’s voice comes through the speakers, crisp and clean.

“Now boarding the 11:00 train to Sendai.”

The three of them stand as one unit. Asahi bends over and grabs the strap of Tobio’s duffel, offering it to him.

“Thank you,” Tobio says quietly. He takes a step forward and turns to the two of them. There’s pride and sadness in their faces. Every few moments Asahi’s eyes flash toward Suga, then back to Tobio.

“You’ve got your ticket?” Suga says.

Tobio dutifully produces it from his pocket and shows them. 

“Good.”

They stand there looking at each other, and Tobio can’t find anything else to say. There’s nothing he _could_ say that could possibly convey the appreciation he has for them, the debt he owes them. But he thinks they know that. He hopes they do.

“I should go, I guess,” he manages. 

Tobio hefts his duffel over his shoulder and steps onto the train, turning to face them again.

“Now boarding for Sendai,” the announcer states.

Tobio frowns. “Thank you for everything,” he says, bowing at the waist, knowing it’s not enough. Suga huffs.

“It’s not goodbye,” they mutter defiantly, but it is, isn’t it?

He hates the twist in his gut at the thought. A few months ago all he’d wanted was a new life, a new start, and now it’s being granted to him and he doesn’t want to let go.

Suga and Asahi had been his new life, though. They’d been his new start, his home. He would gladly give up being able to play volleyball ever again to be able to stay with them.

The realization hits him hard; his throat closes up, and he bites his lip, fighting away tears.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. 

Asahi’s eyes flicker toward Suga briefly before he steps forward. Time slows down as he reaches for the front of Tobio’s jacket and tugs him closer. Their eyes meet for what feels like a hundred years, and Tobio can see the question in them, the hope. Then they shut, and he leans in and captures Tobio’s mouth with his own.

Asahi’s lips are soft and slightly cherry-flavored, and he brings a hand up to gently cup Tobio’s jaw. Tobio has perhaps forgotten how to kiss, because after a moment Asahi pulls away with mild confusion in his features.

“Was that…okay?” he asks quietly.

“Sendai train departing,” the announcer states.

Tobio steps back so that his feet are on the train. He can’t find the words; he can’t find anything in his brain at all as Asahi and Suga stare at him.

Asahi’s face falls. “Tobio?”

“I—”

“Sendai train departing,” repeats the announcer. “Doors closing.”

Suga surges forward and finds Tobio’s lips. It’s messy and rough and interrupted by the doors closing. Tobio stares up at them through the window as the train begins to move.

Suga holds up their phone and gestures at it, mouthing something that Tobio doesn’t understand. They watch him, and he watches them, as the train pulls out of the station. Far too late, he realizes he’s still wearing Asahi’s scarf. The station is a speck on the horizon before he finally accepts he can’t see them anymore and goes to sit down.

He touches his fingers to his lips and doesn’t move them for a long time.

_\+ i (bonus). i’m still waiting for you every night with ticker tape_

Tobio has pre-game jitters for the first time in his entire career.

Before his injury, he was confident enough in his abilities that he never had those last minute doubts his teammates seemed prone to. Today, however, seems to be a different story. Logically speaking, he knows his injury isn’t going to give out. Weeks of practice have made him more sure of his own feet than he’s been in a long while. But there’s a feeling he can’t quite shake: a feeling that he’s going to make a mistake, that he’ll toss a ball to the wrong person at the wrong time, or set it too quickly for the first time since middle school.

It’s got his stomach in knots. 

His uniform still smells and looks clean, having not yet been subjected to being shoved in alongside his gym shoes or left unfolded too long. It feels strange on his body, like it doesn’t quite belong to him yet. Over time, it will get softer in the shoulders, accustomed to his width. For today, though, it feels like another thing ready to thwart him.

On the bench beside him, his phone buzzes. He picks it up and finds a message from Asahi.

>> _Good luck today! Remember to take deep breaths._

Before he can respond, a text comes in from Suga.

>> _Kick some ass, Tobio. We’ll be watching._

Tobio thanks them both and sets his phone down again. He still can’t quite believe his luck—although perhaps luck isn’t the right word. Was it fate that set Suga running into him that rainy night several months before? Or was it sheer happenstance? 

Either way, when Suga and Asahi had dragged him to a shrine on New Year’s, he’d thanked the gods for the two of them. When he’d pulled his _o-mikuji_ , he’d been surprised to find “great blessing” written on it. Later, when Suga had leaned in to kiss his cheek as they walked through the park, Tobio had decided it was a little late on the prediction. He’d already received his blessing.

The coach calls them over into a huddle. Tobio ends up directly across from the coach, and the feeling of his teammates’ arms around him is a familiar warmth he’d all but forgotten.

“The first game with a new starting player is always difficult,” the coach says. He meets Tobio’s eyes. “You’re a damn fine player, Kageyama-kun, and we’re lucky to have you. But we’re still getting used to you. Don’t take offense if every play doesn’t go through perfectly. We’ll get there, alright?”

Tobio nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Everyone, let’s make this a great game out there. We’re gonna have a huge crowd today, so let’s give ‘em something to watch! Let’s go Knights!”

They all echo after him, and then it’s time to go out to the court. Each step is heavy, weighed down by time away from the game and the anxiety of wanting to be part of this team, to be part of _something_ again. Just shy of the floor, the team stops.

Underneath his feet, the court shines. The opposing team is already out on the court, and the sound of their sneakers squeaking against the floor mixed with the yelling of the crowd is a strange sort of symphony.

A hand is placed heavily on his shoulder. 

“You look nervous, Kage-kun,” says Kuroo.

Tobio looks at him and furrows his brows. “How obvious is it?”

Kuroo laughs. “The other team won’t be able to tell, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A bit of tension seeps out of Tobio’s shoulders. “Right.”

“It’s just one game,” Kuroo reminds him. “We’ve got your back out there, okay? You’re not out there alone. We’re with you.”

Tobio nods, and the announcer’s voice begins to shout over the P.A. system. “Thanks, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo smirks. “Suga wasn’t kidding about the honorifics, huh? You can drop that anytime.”

“ _Now presenting your home team, the Tokyo Knights! Captain and middle blocker, Kuroo Tetsurou!”_

Kuroo throws him a salute before he runs onto the court. The screaming from the fans intensifies. 

“ _Your starting setter, appearing in his first game for the Knights and for the first time since his injury over a year ago, Kageyama Tobio!”_

Tobio takes a deep breath before he sprints out onto the court. He remembers the feeling of being watched, but not so much the feeling of being judged, of feeling like he has something to prove. His stomach churns some more. He’s nearly reached Kuroo on the court when something catches his attention.

"TOBIO!!!!"

Tobio's eyes flicker to the crowd. In the front row, decked head to toe in the blue and orange of the Knights, are Suga and Asahi, plus Bokuto and Akaashi next to them. Bokuto shouts and pumps both fists in the air while Akaashi watches him with a smile. When Suga sees they've caught his eye, they elbow Asahi, who turns around to show his back. They've somehow ironed on his number and name.

Tobio isn't sure if he wants to laugh or cry.

"They’re good to you, huh?” Kuroo says into his ear. Another team member is announced, and although some eyes are still on Tobio, mostly the crowd moves on, cheering for the other players. Tobio nods, his eyes still on Asahi and Suga.

“Better than I deserve,” he says.

Kuroo slaps his back. “I say the same thing about Kou and Keiji, and yet for some reason they keep us around. Come on, genius. Show me what you’ve got.”

Tobio watches his partners for another moment. Suga turns to say something to Asahi, who smiles brightly, and it makes his heart skip a beat. In that moment, he realizes that they’re one and the same. The feeling of being back on the court after so long is the same feeling as being curled up under the kotatsu with Asahi and Suga on either side of him.

It’s the feeling of home.

Tobio nods and turns to Kuroo. “Let’s go, Kuroo-san.”

\---

Laughter fills the locker room after the game. The atmosphere is light despite their loss; several of the men congratulate Tobio on a well-played game, on a good, solid return to form. Tobio accepts their praise with a bow of his head and a sincere thank you to each of them. 

“We’ll loosen him up yet,” Kuroo says, patting Komi on the back as he walks away, looking slightly puzzled at Tobio’s response. “He’s used to playing with the likes of Ushijima, so you’ll have to forgive his stiffness.”

There’s a groan of recognition through the room, and Tobio blushes.

It’s strange, he thinks as he changes back into his street clothes. A year ago, losing would have been grounds for frustration and anger with himself. He’d have spent the night going through every play in his head, analyzing everything he could have done better. Tonight, he’ll be going out to dinner with Suga, Asahi, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi, and while he’s certain they’ll talk about the game, and volleyball in general, Tobio also knows that he’ll be able to simply enjoy their company without feeling the need to hyperfixate on his mistakes.

“You good?” Kuroo asks, cutting into his thoughts. “I think you’ve got some adoring fans waiting out there.”

Tobio blushes against his will. He stands and shoulders his bag. “Sure, if you are.”

Asahi and Suga are, in fact, just outside the locker room. Suga rushes forward and hauls Tobio into their arms, lifting him off the ground. Asahi’s laughter is right beside his ear, and Tobio turns his head to kiss him. 

“You were amazing out there,” Asahi says, touching his face. Tobio goes warm under his hand.

“Of course he was,” Suga scoffs, finally setting him down. “He’s our boyfriend, he’s not allowed to be anything but amazing.”

“Koushi,” Tobio grumbles. Suga kisses him firmly.

“You were really incredible,” they say. “I’m proud of you.”

Tobio ducks his head, and Asahi laughs.

“Genuine compliments,” he says. “His ultimate weakness.”

“Alright, lovebirds, wrap it up so we can make our reservation,” Kuroo calls. When Tobio looks over, Bokuto’s got him riding on his back while Akaashi looks at both of them fondly. 

“Ready to go?” Asahi asks. 

Tobio takes one of his hands and one of Suga’s. He catches a smile on each of their faces.

“Yeah,” Tobio agrees. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who took a look at this piece while it was in creation: Jordan and Kay for beta-ing, Cat and Tawnya for cheering me on, Becca, Sam, and Gray for reading probably a hundred drafts of this over the last few months. This piece is my heart and soul and it wouldn't be here without you guys. Thank you.  
> And thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I know this isn't a conventional ship but if you're reading this you probably stuck it out. I hope something here sits in your heart or makes you smile. If it did, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment, or sharing this fic on social media.  
> My socials can be found [here.](https://joshllyman.carrd.co/)


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